


your body next to mine

by futuredescending



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Manhandling, Smut, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuredescending/pseuds/futuredescending
Summary: As it would happen, Eggsy has a thing for being manhandled, which Harry discovers during a less than opportune moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withinmelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/gifts).



> For withinmelove, whose 'manhandling' prompt made me realize how very much pro-manhandling I am. I hope you enjoy it!

After the table meeting, Harry almost clears the door when Merlin calls after him: “Ah, I almost forgot, Arthur: EET at nine a.m. tomorrow.”

It stops Harry in his tracks as he turns around to give Merlin an incredulous look. “You must be joking.”

“I’m not the one who insisted on re-qualifying for field agent status—”

“Which you’re only awarding me on an extremely limited basis,” Harry is quick to remind him, not more than a little sullen over it. Still.

“—despite now having a largely administrative title.” Merlin doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the withering look Harry levels in his direction. By this point, he’s largely immune. “You’ve passed every other assessment with flying colours. Let’s just dot all our i’s then.”

Harry sighs, making it clear he feels very put out, before resuming his previous intent of leaving. “Fine. One more bloody test just so you can say I am certified to do a job I’ve only been doing for the last thirty years.”

“Oh, by the way, you’ll be testing alongside our newest recruits.” It stops Harry in his tracks once more. “Granted, we should have had them undergone it much earlier, but, for obvious reasons, things were a bit hectic.”

EET, or Emergency Extraction Training, partially involved being able to carry or drag one’s fellow agent to a safe point under less than ideal circumstances, which meant that at some point, Harry would probably have to suffer the indignity of being manhandled by Roxy and Eggsy, of all people.

Harry suspects that if he were to turn around, he’d find Merlin’s face to be perfectly taciturn as it always is, but inside, Harry knows the bastard is cackling.

 

_____

 

“You know,” Harry grits out through clenched teeth after his feet clip yet another tree trunk, “You’re suppose to transport me to safety without breaking off my limbs in the process.”

“I’m _sorry_.” Eggsy’s breath is only slightly laboured due to the fact he’s been carrying Harry for a good mile and a half uphill through the forests that surround Kingsman’s headquarters. “But you’re _all limbs_. It’s fucking ridiculous, is what it is. Maybe I’m just trying to get them down to a reasonable length.”

Which is also why Eggsy has elected to carry Harry bridal style instead of the much more operationally strategic fireman’s carry, claiming that Harry was simply _too fucking long_ to be carried as such and he’d get all tripped up. Thus, Harry was borne up into Eggsy’s arms like a very grumpy limpet and no doubt Merlin was going to be holding the recording of this incident over his head in the future.

“If this were real and I were the enemy, I’d shoot you in your perfectly exposed back,” Harry says, and does not envision said perfectly exposed back, or more specifically, said backside. He’s already playing the damsel in distress. No need to spontaneously develop the in-character swooning to accompany it.

“But you’re not the enemy. You’re a very injured,” Eggsy grunts and struggles to readjust Harry in his arms, much to Harry’s displeasure, “Very unconscious agent right now. Which means you’re not supposed to be talking. And stop tensing. Sag a bit, yeah? No wonder you keep smacking your feet into everything, keep your bloody stems in the car at all times, please.”

Admittedly this humiliation is preferable to what Harry had to suffer at Roxy’s hands for her outdoor terrain extraction, which involved being _dragged_ through layers of dead leaves and twigs and over very painful stones and tree roots that littered the forest floor. At least being carried in Eggsy’s arms means he won’t lose a layer of skin, if the same cannot be said for his pride. And Eggsy really is astoundingly strong, with a very firm, muscular chest that Harry gets to press himself against and—

Just out of spite, Harry makes himself go lax in Eggsy’s arms like the dead weight he’s supposed to be. The sudden shift throws Eggsy off balance and he loses his footing, nearly sending them both toppling back down the hill they’d barely ascended just as a gunshot cracks through the air.

Good thing too—on the tree trunk that had been previously blocked by Eggsy’s head not a millisecond before, there is now a large splash of bright red paint, perhaps to simulate blood splatter, which is not more than a little gruesome, actually.

“Fuck.” Eggsy unceremoniously drops Harry the remaining few inches to the ground in order to retrieve his own weapon and return the courtesy. “Right, lemme just take care of this then.”

Eggsy looks down at Harry, now indecorously sprawled across a mound of mossy rocks and glaring back up at him like an offended cat, and gives him a quickfire grin, taking off before Harry can open his mouth to reply.

 

_____

 

By the time Harry’s garnered, if not any smatterings of blood-like paint on his person, then colourful bruises from nearly head to toe, he’s actually looking forward to his own assessment simply to not have to be tossed about like a careless child’s toy anymore.

Roxy, of course, is light as a feather and barely any heavier to carry than the heavy packs he’d worn on his back during long Army runs. She’s helpfully petite enough to easily throw over his shoulder or bear against his side as needed through both the outdoor extraction and the facility one. But best of all, she’s blessedly committed to her role, choosing to remain a silent and mostly limp patient. Harry returns the favour by making sure she doesn’t suffer so much as a scratch, always careful with swaying arms and legs, lowering her to the ground only gently.

Eggsy is an entirely different story.

For one, the boy simply won’t shut up.

“Best not put your hands there, mate. Bit ticklish,” Eggsy warns before squirming a bit beneath Harry’s hands round his mid-torso to angle him into a better position to lift.

“Praytell, where should I put my hands then?” Harry asks testily because he’s already mentally answering his own question with increasingly inappropriate possibilities.

Eggsy gives him a comically oblivious face accompanied by an exaggerated shrug. “Hey, I’m not the one that’s doing the rescuing.”

“Precisely. As you pointed out to me not so many days ago, you’re supposed to be very unconscious, which means very silent.” And with that, Harry circles his arms around Eggsy and hauls him up.

Eggsy is most definitely not as light as Roxy. For as vertically challenged as he may be (“Am not!” he can already hear Eggsy squawking in offence), he’s all thick, stocky muscles corded over sturdy bones. Harry manages to get Eggsy over his shoulder with a bit less grace than he would have liked, but at least he can still keep his pride for having done it at all, on the first go around too.

This is, incidentally, only the second time Harry has ever had occasion to be this close with Eggsy, the first time being when Eggsy had to carry Harry for his own extraction training. Now it’s him doing the holding, bearing Eggsy’s weight, the shape of him. His arms are around Eggsy’s thighs to secure the boy’s body against his and Eggsy’s hips are close against his cheek that he only has to turn his head to mash the tip of his nose into the fleshy swell of Eggsy’s firm and yet very plush bottom.

“What are you....are you smelling my arse?” Eggsy asks, trying to crane his head back to see.

“No! That’s... _no_.” Harry covertly peers his head around the corner to look down either end of the corridor. All clear. Still, he removes his gun from his holster just in case. “I’m trying to see around it.”

Eggsy remains silent for two wonderful heartbeats before he accuses, “Are you saying my arse is too big?!”

“Not at all. It’s simply...more ample than I had anticipated.” Really, Harry ought to think his words through better next time, but as it is, he’s got higher priorities at the moment, so he adds, “Shhhh,” before Eggsy can further vocalise his outrage.

It lasts for all of a minute.

“All the blood is rushing to my head like this,” Eggsy complains.

“Perhaps you’ll actually pass out then and make this easier.”

“Rude. Can’t you hold me like I held you?” 

“Absolutely not.” Harry’s pace falls somewhere between a brisk walk and jog, wanting to move quickly but not wanting to tire himself too soon. There were still miles of forest to cover once they escaped the ‘facility’. It’s a somewhat lopsided activity given that he didn’t even have Merlin in his ear to guide him as he almost always would have done, but Merlin believed in training _in extremis_.

He’s so attuned to the potential dangers hidden within his surroundings, he nearly startles when he feels a hand brush across his arse, a bit too slow to be anything but purposeful. “ _Eggsy_.”

“Sorry.” There is absolutely no note of repentance in Eggsy’s tone that Harry can detect.

Before Harry can reply, however, he hears the distant sounds of footsteps clambering down the halls and has to quickly duck into the closest open room at hand, slipping Eggsy’s body down from his shoulder and bracing him against the wall adjacent to the door.

They remain like that for several moments as the footsteps grow louder and voices call to each other, trying to pin down Harry’s location. Gradually, Harry becomes aware of just how closely he’s pressed against Eggsy, of Eggsy’s body heat sinking in through the layers of fabric between them, right into his own skin, of the rise and fall of Eggsy’s chest beneath his splayed palm being used to pin Eggsy upright. It causes Harry pause, yanking his mind from the mire of evasion strategies and hyper-ready alertness and dropping him into the present and all the sudden physical sensations it entails. 

When he turns his head to meet Eggsy’s eyes, several facts slot into place: Eggsy’s pupils are dilated, his lips parted and cheeks touched with pink. His body practically curves into Harry’s at every opportunity.

He realises Eggsy is _aroused_.

It takes him by surprise. If anything, Harry would have assumed that with his rather violent upbringing, Eggsy would have been less comfortable with physical touch than even Harry, but there is inarguable evidence of that pressing against his thigh, which he’d wedged between Eggsy’s legs to keep him pinned, coincidentally.

“You’re enjoying this far too much, I believe.” He’d intended for a nice buffer of glib, but the words emerge more silky seduction rather than chastisement, low and throaty, and he can’t help but shift his knee minutely, curious for the reaction it’ll draw out, rubbing against the rigid line of Eggsy’s trousers.

Eggsy’s eyes widen for only a fraction of a moment before they light up with mischievous delight. A cheeky smile turns up the corners of his pink mouth ever so slightly. “Gotta admit, seeing you toss me about with ease like that is actually kinda hot.”

With his blood suddenly spiking in his veins, Harry realises he’s embarking on sheer bloody madness, to do _this_ with his former protege, in the middle of a fucking training exercise of all times, and perhaps later he’ll claim he’d taken a momentary leave of his senses when he says, “If I knew you’d be so amenable to a firmer hand, I’d have kept mine in sooner,” before wiping that smug smirk right off Eggsy’s face by throwing him back over his shoulder without a word of warning in order to continue the extraction.

His back won’t be thanking him for that one later, but the surprised punch of air from Eggsy’s lungs accompanied by the gasped, _Fucking hell, Harry_ , makes it all worth it.

These new revelations give him a second wind, putting a swifter, surer step to his escape, allowing him to slip through the halls with ease, nimbly avoiding detection. At least until the exit is within sight.

He only catches a flicker of movement in the convex mirror hanging from the ceiling before he turns and fires his gun twice, producing two bright red paint splatters appear on each guard’s chest. Victory remains short lived, however, as more guards round the corner.

Harry breaks into an all out run, fingers gripping Eggsy so tight he’s probably bruising him, but Eggsy doesn’t protest. The doors that lead to the outside world loom ahead, but Harry quickly ducks down a side hall and shoves Eggsy up against the wall face first, covering him on instinct, to avoid the storm of paint pellets that sail across their previous trajectory.

Eggsy’s head lolls against Harry’s shoulder like he can’t possibly keep it up of his own volition. Harry stares at Eggsy’s parted lips, which are now so close, and the bob of his throat when Eggsy swallows and wants to retrace its progress with his tongue. He’s sagging in Harry’s tight grip, upright only by the force of Harry’s body, which plasters the more prominent curves of his backside to Harry’s front. “Right. If you don’t mind….”

“I’ll be waiting here then,” Eggsy tells him, putting his weight back on his two feet.

A little too slowly, Harry disengages from Eggsy’s orbit to dispatch the guards.

After several Kingsman staff, who will probably spend the evening with ice packs, and several spent paint cartridges later, Harry marches back to the spot he last left Eggsy, looking only the slightest bit ruffled, and pulls at his wrist to smoothly swing him back into his arms, less concerned with propriety than he is with his growing impatience. If his hands end up along the back of one of Eggsy’s thick thighs just before the larger swell of his arse, well, he’s found a very good handhold there.

“My hero,” Eggsy sighs.

 

_____

 

Harry passes training with predicted flying colours, of course he does, though he less appreciates the pointed look Merlin shoots in his direction like he knows Harry’s done something wrong, which is wholly unnecessary because he hasn’t, not in the slightest.

His first priority upon returning to headquarters is to shower away the cumulative forest that’s clinging to his skin and clothes, making his way to the changing rooms just off the gym. 

He’s not alone. Eggsy’s beaten him, having already claimed one of the showers for himself, and he’s just…. Harry finds himself at a standstill, caught up in the way the defined musculature of Eggsy’s back shifts with every movement of his body, how his pale skin seems luminous beneath the fluorescent lights and rainfall shower head. 

Eggsy turns his head to cast a glance over his shoulder that can only be deemed coy and before Harry realises what he’s doing, he’s closed the distance between them and pressed Eggsy back against the cool tiles. The water now soaks into his clothes instead, but he doesn’t care, not when he can tip Eggsy’s head back to claim his hot, slick mouth or give permission to his hands to roam over as much of Eggsy’s stunning body as they want.

“Finally getting your pound of flesh, is it?” Eggsy asks, pulling away just enough to take in the hungry expression that must be on full display across his face. Harry certainly feels it, overriding all common sense and caution.

"Are you sure?" Harry insists on asking, because it's one thing to be caught up in the thrill of escape, but to do so now would mean there was no going back.

"I trust you," Eggsy says simply, like it's an inexorable truth.

“Then I believe you said something about an affinity for being, how was it phrased, ‘tossed about?’” Harry leans back in to kiss him, feeling Eggsy’s wide grin against his mouth and the sharp edges of his teeth before Eggsy winds his arms to the back of Harry’s neck to keep him close. “You like me handling you like this?” Harry drags his hands to Eggsy’s waist, then grabs two handfuls of his arse, firmness encased in just the slightest layer of cushion that yields to his tightening fingers. He slides his hands further down still, hooking them beneath Eggsy’s thighs, pressing forward to shove Eggsy back and pin him up against the wall.

Eggsy huffs out a surprised puff of breath, but when he realises his new position, immediately locks his legs around Harry’s waist. “Christ, you’re so fucking fit.” Eggsy’s all slick wet skin, but the now sodden fabric of Harry’s suit provides plenty of delicious friction against his hardened cock, meeting the stiff line of Harry’s through the layers of fabric that separate them. “Yeah, I got something you can manhandle right here.”

From there, it’s a slow grind that’s just forceful enough to be maddening, Harry rocking his hips up, bearing most of Eggsy’s weight, Eggsy’s heels digging into the small of his back tight enough to radiate a sweet ache. His soaked clothes chafe just a little too roughly on his cock, but Eggsy’s low breathy cries bound off the walls, underscoring the continuous spray of water and stream around them.

His thrusts speed up with the pooling sensation in his groin, and Eggsy rocks against him, pressing back harder, cursing. A fat drop of water slips down his cheek and hangs at the hinge of his jaw, and Harry leans forward and licks it, ending in a scrape of teeth, feeling Eggsy’s shudders beneath his lips as he spills between them, all down the front of Harry’s suit.

“Jesus, Harry.” Eggsy sighs, legs falling from around his waist, entire body sagging in his post-climax languor.

Harry gently lowers him down until he’s wobbly but more or less stable on his two feet before flipping him to face to wall with a hand braced at the back of his neck. He kisses the expanse of skin between Eggsy’s shoulders as he fumbles between them to free his aching cock from its wet and now cold confines, running the blunt head along the crack of Eggsy’s arse, pressing, just a little, at his tightly puckered hole.

Eggsy gasps and thrusts back instinctively until the tip of Harry’s cock manages to breach the tight ring of muscle. “You can if you want,” he moans, clenching around what little of Harry’s cock is inside him.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” Harry mutters into Eggsy’s neck. He’d like nothing more than to sink all the way into that tight heat if that pulsing vice around the head of his dick is anything to go by, but with with the copious amounts of pre-come wetting his glans, it’s edging on the wrong side of too dry and they haven’t got anything at hand to ease the way. “Next time. For now, just...clench your legs together.”

Harry reluctantly pulls out and guides Eggsy to brace himself against the wall with his hands and press his legs together as tightly as he can, pulling at his hips to angle his arse out. It’s a beautiful picture, and Harry contents himself with keeping Eggsy’s forehead pressed to the tiles and sliding his cock between Eggsy’s cheeks.

“Come on, Harry,“ Eggsy coaxes after a long string of filth leaves his lips. “Just like that. Next time, next time you can fuck me over the dining table...against the wall...have me kneel beneath your desk. I’m flexible, you know. Can bend me and twist me up, just so long as you give it to me fucking _hard_.” 

Nestled within the heated fleshy confines between Eggsy’s thighs, spinning out a fantasy to each new possibility Eggsy unspools in words, Harry's thrusts speeding up until he’s painting the inside of them with a choked off groan, pulling Eggsy back up against his chest, a hand travelling the quivering length of Eggsy’s beautifully muscled torso as he settles back into his skin. Then, a thought, voiced hoarsely. “How flexible?”

Beneath his palms, Eggsy’s body trembles with laughter. “Can put my feet behind my head.”

Helplessly, Harry visualises it, ridiculous and inevitably arousing. He files it away in the mental catalog he’s been building on Eggsy ever since the boy looked at him, bright eyed and eager to please, after leaving Dean’s men littered all over the pub floor.

No, even just slightly before that, when Eggsy spat fire at him at him, unafraid to go off on Harry for his presumptions on his life. _That_ , everything vibrant and vital about Eggsy. He wants to touch and feel and know. 

His own shower goes much more quickly if vastly more tame. Years of doing the exact same thing have given him an automated haste in putting on his spare suit, so quick, in fact, that he finishes even before Eggsy, who’d hardly been in any hurry now that he’s got implicit permission to take in the show being played out before him.

Eggsy’s tie still hangs loosely around his neck. Harry uses it as an excuse to approach him and thumb the strips of silk, gently measuring them out to tie a perfect half-Windsor, ending with a final tug and pull to the base of Eggsy’s throat where he can’t help but tenderly caress with the back of his knuckle. He meets Eggsy’s eyes, soft and fond, and can’t lie or equivocate to himself anymore: he’s an old besotted fool for this boy who blooms beneath his touch like a flower unfurling towards the sun.

“Still wish to be carried around like a princess?”  


It’s spoken half in jest, but the flare of amusement brightens Eggsy’s features into something like a challenge. “I do. If you’ve still got anything left in you, that is.”

Challenge issued and accepted.

Eggsy’s laughter echoes across the changing room when Harry scoops him up and carries him across the threshold to the hall outside, bypassing a suspicious and bewildered Merlin on the way.


End file.
